Why Did It Have to be You
by Detouredbe
Summary: My idea of how Fidget and Olivia might have reacted to each other, if Olivia had been grown up during the events of the movie, as was originally planned according to the conceptual sketches. Full summary inside.


A look at how Fidget and Olivia might have reacted to each other, if Olivia had been grown up during the events of _The Great Mouse Detective_, as was originally planned. Takes place between Fidget's encounter with Felicia and his appearance in the Rat Trap Saloon. Told in third-person perspective, but it frequently delves into the characters' thoughts.

I own nothing; all characters used and mentioned belong to either Eve Titus or Disney or both, except for the reference to Fidget's father, and the song "What about Love" belongs to Heart. Bearing this in mind, read and review!

The young lady sat curled up in the empty human liquor bottle - not at all a ladylike way to sit, of course, but in that cramped space it was the most comfortable position she could attain. She'd been crying, as any woman would have, in her situation. Her father had been kidnapped from her the day before, and after meeting up with a kindly old doctor who helped her to locate the famous detective Basil of Baker Street, then setting off with them to try and recover the old mouse, she'd been snatched by the same assailant who'd taken her father, and brought to the same location as he! Then, after a few tearful moments of reunion, she'd been pulled away and stuffed in here, with the cork plugged in behind her! But strangely enough, she was most focused on their kidnapper, in her musings.

The young lady's name was Olivia Flaversham, and her father had been captured by a young bat she knew only to be called "Fidget", who worked for a criminal mastermind Basil of Baker Street had referred to as "The Napoleon of Crime" among a few other informal titles - the nefarious Professor Padraic Ratigan.* As it was, she had still not yet learned why the Professor had wanted her father, Hiram Flaversham. Though he was extremely skilled at his work, he was a children's toymaker; not exactly the sort of thing a coldhearted leader of organized crime would be interested in, right? Nevertheless, the villainous rat had obviously seen some use in him, and apparently had wanted her to be there as well, so he could use her as a decoy to get Hiram to follow his wishes.

Enter Fidget. Though he was a head shorter than her, even with her petite, Scottish feminine frame, and looked as though he'd not been very well provided for all his life, he was amazingly strong, having been able to wrestle her father to the ground after breaking in through their window, and carry him off on his back, into the night. Then, he'd been able to carry off with _her_ (though she was a good deal lighter than her father, being somewhat shorter and fairer in body) and a quantity of bags containing - as Basil had deduced minutes before that had happened - a large amount of tools of a sort, gears from human clockwork toys, and uniforms from a collection of tin soldiers, which the bat had acquired in the human toystore they'd tracked him down to, in their quest to solve the mystery behind Hiram's kidnapping.

She recalled what had happened the last time she'd seen him. Imprisoning her at his side all the while, the bat had, at his employer's orders, taken her to the room where her father was being kept to work on some eerie-looking machine - she'd not noticed much about it. Delighted at being reunited with him, she briefly struggled to get free from Fidget's grasp (why wouldn't he let her go?), before resorting to stamping on his foot, and running to her paternal parent and embracing him with the fierceness of a tidal wave, and the moistness of one, for that matter. From what she heard in her momentary euphoria, Fidget was quite displeased with what she'd done to him, and no wonder; he only had one foot to go by, the other being mysteriously replaced by a wooden peg. That was another feature about this fellow that Olivia marvelled at - that he could be so strong and physically capable, when he had such an obvious disability. That he could run off with her, as he had done, without tripping even once. And his handicap did not stop there. According to Basil, Fidget also suffered with a broken wing. She would never have thought it by looking at him, but - though she'd never associated with bats (in the mouse-dominated culture she lived in, and with the dark, sinister social reputation that species had, that just wasn't done!) she knew that it would hinder his aerodynamic capabilities, if not permeate them completely. Yet, this young man pressed on, in this awful job of his, using whatever resorts he had to get his job done.

Then, again upon Ratigan's orders, the bat had pulled her - rather forcefully - away from Hiram, ignoring both mice's pleas, and proceeded to drag her over to this confounded bottle in which she now dwelt, deep in her thoughts. She never stopped kicking and struggling with him, but he'd had his way in the end, though when she'd called him an ugly old thing out of frustration, he'd seemed quite animatedly hurt by that. One could merely say that he scoffed at her in distaste after trapping her in there, and turned an icy shoulder to her, before departing, but that wasn't entirely how it had taken place. No, he'd had an admittedly comical childish streak at this point; hands on hips, he'd said, "See how you like that!" in his deep, raspy but fast-paced voice, before turning and dramatically strutting off, wings swinging, eyes closed and mouth turned up in a smile of idiotic satisfaction. No, he wasn't terribly smart, and he did appear to possess a certain lack of mental maturity, but there was something undeniably cute about that. Cute! Ha! This was the same fiend who'd abducted first the only surviving member of her immediate family, and then herself, in less than 24 hours, (and quite callously, at that) and she was calling him cute! She'd been half-right moments before, when she'd called him ugly instead; he could look dangerously menacing for a fellow his height, when he wanted to, but in reality he was not ugly, in quite the proper sense.

She'd then watched, feeling remotely remorseful for her name-calling, as the young bat had marched over to his employer, and listened (what else was there for her to do, in there?) as Ratigan first praised Fidget for following a list he'd given him so accurately, and then like a flip of a coin he stormed at him for losing that same list, and apparently letting it fall into the hands of Basil of Baker Street. (She wondered if the master sleuth could somehow use it as a clue in helping to deduce where she and her father were? She hoped this was the case - no pun intended.) After it seemed like Ratigan was going to blow a fuse, he'd suddenly managed to get himself under control again, and had picked Fidget - who'd swaddled himself up in his wings so much, out of fright, that Olivia felt an almost maternal longing to do just as Ratigan was doing, if she'd been strong enough - up into his arms, talking in a fatherly manner to him. Fidget seemed immensely relieved, and ready to genuinely reciprocate this feigned affection, and then Olivia did not see what happened after that. All she heard was a bell ringing, and Fidget suddenly screaming in terror, before frantically muttering at someone or something, and calling out to his fellow thugs for help. A few moments later, she overheard Ratigan telling some woman named "Felicia" to release him (from what?), and Ratigan then said something incoherent to her ears. Not long after that, she saw Fidget come staggering around the corner again, head hung low, wings gracing the ground almost as if he were brachiating, thin, wiry chest heaving in and out as though he were exhausted, recently relieved of a traumatic ordeal, or both. Now, he looked absolutely terrible, but in a pitiful way - his ears - one of which had already been notched before - were all mangled and chewed up, he was scratched all over, and he seemed to be covered in a water-like solution. When he looked up and saw her watching him with her eyes wide-opened, he'd emitted a wrangled cry, like a wild animal in pain, before trying to hide his sorry state behind his wings, and had rushed off into the rum barrel which Ratigan used as a hideout.

Olivia lay straight out on her back, having done her best to smooth her skirts and her hat out before doing so. Her hat now rested on top of her stomach, one of her hands gently clasped it as though she feared someone might try to take it from her. All of a sudden, she heard the halted _tap, tap, tap_ of a hard, stick-like object repeatedly meeting up with the ground, which signalled her that Fidget approached. She resisted the urge to turn and look at him at first opportunity, choosing instead to remain as she was. Presently he pulled the cork which sealed her inside that bottle out of place, and at this her curiosity peaked. She still did not budge, but her eyes turned up, and she watched Fidget climb inside, carrying a wooden bowl. The bowl contained three rather thick slices of bread. He placed this down above her head, from her perspective, then clambered out. He returned again, this time carefully placing a large cup in, beside the bread.

Now, Olivia sat up and turned around, saying simply, "Thank you." Truth be told, she'd been starting to get rather empty beneath her petticoat.

Fidget, who was paying attention at the time to getting himself down from the bottle's mouth, was surprised by her speaking to him like that, and banged his head upon starting. In turn, he'd slipped off and landed in a heap on the ground beneath the bottle's neck. Olivia couldn't suppress the laughter which now bubbled up in her.

Rubbing his head as he lay akimbo, Fidget frowned at her, then snapped, "I hope you weren't expecting Peking Duck and wine, coz it ain't gonna happen!" He did not approve of her laughing at him, naturally, and it seemed as though that was the best reply he'd been able to come up with, in the heat of the moment.

He picked himself up and turned to leave, before Olivia called, "Wait!" He stopped, and turned back to her, a look of "_Well_?" on his face. Why had she called him back? Ah, of course! He'd forgotten to plug the cork in again! "Don't you think I might try to escape?" She smiled daringly, pointing towards the mouth of the bottle.

Fidget glanced in her finger's direction, and did a double take. Looking around as if worried that Ratigan might come out of nowhere at any second, he grabbed the cork and hastily stuffed it in again, not caring that it was unevenly placed. He then spun around, leaning against the bottle and panting nervously.

Olivia couldn't help thinking what a frightful baby Fidget really was, after all he'd displayed before her. "Fidget," she said.

Starting again, he turned and faced her. "Huh? How'd you know my name?"

"Never you mind that," she replied, not about to divulge more information than she needed to; she only intended to receive information, after all. "What does your employer want of my father?"

"Never _you_ mind _that_!" Fidget retorted, glaring at her with his hands on his hips. Olivia strayed a glance at the defined muscles in his wings - she wondered how he'd look in flight, if it were possible - before getting back to her topic. "Oh come now, it's not as if I'm going anywhere! Out with it!" She accentuated her words with her hand.

The young male bat on the other side of the glass scowled for a moment, thinking over the circumstances. Finally, he said, "Boss is gonna do away with the queen tonight. Then he'll take over the kingdom."

"Regicide!" She exclaimed, and Fidget smirked. "But what does my father have to do with this?"

"He's building a clockwork that'll look like Mousetoria, and it's gonna announce to the crowd that Ratigan's her successor."

Olivia was devastated. The beautiful, glorious ruler Queen Mousetoria, to be cruelly annihilated on her Diamond Jubilee! And her poor father, forced to assist in this nasty carryout! It must have been breaking the old mouse's heart, she thought. And now it was clear why Ratigan had wanted her here; he must surely realize that Hiram loved Olivia so dearly he'd be willing to follow out Ratigan's demands, in order to prevent them from doing anything bad to her.

"I don't see how you can be so pleased at the prospect!" She replied angrily.

"Huh?" As though he'd been off in another world, Fidget glanced at her, surprised. She went on, "How do you honestly manage to live with yourself? You work for an insidious, vile, conniving, criminal sewer rat, you do horrible things like abducting and stealing from innocent people - humans included - you've the maturity and mental stability of an infant, you foolishly expect care from your employer, who clearly would have you done away with without further notice if such suited him, and now you tell me…" Olivia paused, for although she'd expected her anger and resentment towards this maniacal bat who stood before her, wide-eyed, taking in every word, to grow only larger and more grounded than it had already been, she noticed a strong sense of sympathy growing inside her at the same time. How must it feel for one, to have to live that way? Especially when said person suffered from such physical setbacks as he did? Although mice such as herself could get by just fine without the properties of flight, she knew from Social Studies during her school years - a course she'd always mastered in - that flight was one of the most important aspects of bat culture, and was used to determine one's strength and maturity, even to attract a potential spouse, among other things. How must it feel for this young fellow, who looked only around her age, to be denied of this vital power by some cruel twist of fate which was unknown to her? Perhaps that was how he'd ended up where he was - he'd been ashamed of his unfortunate infliction, and could not bare to face his kind in such a state, so had run away and eventually, out of need to make ends meet for himself, turned to the first person who'd offered him any means of worth - that evil, disgusting rat who called himself Professor Ratigan. Was that what had happened? Just as she was beginning to think maybe Fidget was not really such a bad person after all, she then remembered the terrifying expression of mad delight which had been on his face as he'd burst in through the window of her home, beaten her father up, roped him, and made off with him, never noticing her looking on in horror. The dark satisfaction in his voice as he'd growled, "Gotcha, toymaker!", and taken off into the streets, cackling all the way. The way he'd brutally snatched her in the human toyshop, after luring her into a trap, and crammed her into one of the bags he carried for his mission - she'd surprisingly managed to fit, though her crumpled up position was far from comfortable. The way he dragged, pushed and shoved her to and fro in this miserable place in the sewers of London, never taking her comfort into consideration. The way, just now, he'd smiled about the idea of what was to become of Mousedom's - the mice's slang term for their part of Britain* - beloved, influential female ruler.

"And now you tell me," she recalled, "that Professor Ratigan plans to kill Queen Mousetoria, and you seem so eager for this to happen. Why? What can _you_ possibly expect to gain from all this?"

Fidget stared at her, dumbstruck. "I - I - well, I," he stammered, at a loss for words. Then, once more, he frowned. "Listen toots, I got nothing against the queen myself! I've got orders to follow, I follow them! I'd pay for it if I didn't!"

Olivia was not moved. "You realize as soon as Basil of Baker Street finds out about this, he'll put a stop to it. You and that ugly old sewer rat, and the whole lot of you will land in jail! Perhaps the whole lot of you will hang for your misdoings!"

"Shh!" Fidget hissed, quickly indicating "quiet" with his hands and looking around them. "Don't let the boss here you call him that!"

"I beg your pardon?" Olivia asked, surprised. When he'd told her to be quiet, she'd at first assumed it was because he could not take the thought of what she'd said.

"Boss hates to be called a rat," he whispered against the glass, so softly she could barely hear him. "He wants to blend in with the mice. He'll kill anyone who reminds him of what he really is."

"And why should you care? What difference does it make to you if I live or die?" Olivia was shaken by the thought, deep down, but she really could not see why Fidget would be concerned.

"Would you wanna be eaten up by a giant cat? I wouldn't," Fidget shuddered.

"A cat?" she inquired. "How in heaven's name did Ratigan acquire one of those?"

"Keep a lion fed, you can keep it as a pet, I think the humans say. And to us, a cat is like a lion. Whenever anyone upsets Ratigan enough that he doesn't want 'em around anymore, he calls on Felicia with his bell." Fidget had started trembling all the while saying this. So that was what had happened to him before. But why had Ratigan changed his mind?

"Oh dear," was all Olivia could say. This added a whole new layer to her troubles. She could only hope now that her father could get his part in Ratigan's scheme - atrocious as it was - satisfactorily done, so that Ratigan would let him and herself go. In fact, she hoped he would when all was said and done, instead of just feeding them to this monstrous pet of his, to destroy them as witnesses. Or, hopefully, Basil and Dr. Dawson would be able to find and rescue them, and put a stop to this whole diabolical madness before things had a chance to become tragic.

"Look," her kidnapper said in a different tone from any she'd heard him use before. She glanced up at him, unsure of what he was going to say. He mumbled, "I wasn't smiling about what I said," then said in a louder tone, "I smiled coz I like the way you talk." He obviously had meant to say that part quietly, and the first part louder, but it had come out the way it had.

"Excuse me?" she replied.

Fidget turned red, realizing what he'd done. "Um, no - never mind! I uh, well, Ratigan's calling!" He turned to leave as quickly as possible. "Wait!" Olivia called for the second time. Why did she keep wanting him to stay?

He turned back, still wearing an embarrassed, uneasy expression on his face. "What?" he asked hotly.

"Come back here," she said, in an even voice. He at first looked defiant - he had no need to take orders from her - then suddenly seemed to have a change of mind, and, slumping in defeat, he returned to his earlier post in front of her. "What do you want?"

"I'm - I'm just interested; what about my voice do you like so much?"

"Um, um, well it's just… you - y-you roll your r's. It sounds pretty."

"Oh. Thank you," she answered. She never would have thought a lowlife criminal such as him would be so innocently appreciative of a minor detail like that.

An awkward pause followed, before Fidget spoke up. "Look, for what it's worth, I wouldn't have kidnapped you or your dad if I didn't have to. I only do what my boss tells me to do. I told you what'll happen if I don't."

"Seems to me it could happen whether you obey him or not," Olivia mused.

"Yeah, well," he wrung his hands, "one less motive is better than nothing, right?"

"I suppose so," she answered, sighing. She could feel herself slipping, she really must not start liking this man, but as she gradually began to understand the way he lived, she found herself sympathizing with him, and combining this with his sudden gentler behaviour towards her, she was finding it increasingly hard not to. She was momentarily distracted by the sudden realization that the gnawing in her stomach had maximized during this time. Turning back to the bread and water he'd brought her, she said, "I really should thank you again, for bringing the food."

"Nah, don't mention it," Fidget said, with a suggested smile curving his lips.

"Although, Ratigan was gonna have a lot less provided, but I managed to convince him to give you that much."

Now Olivia's face brightened. Although she did not think it polite to eat in front of someone who was not eating, she could not hold out longer. She reached over, picked up a hunk of bread, and bit into it. Although the bread was not stale, it tasted considerably plain without butter and jam, as she was used to eating it, but she ate with pleasure just the same.

When she'd finished the first slice, she turned to look back at Fidget, who was still there. As though thinking the same as herself, he'd turned away, and now lent against the outside of the bottle, wings folded over his chest, hat tipped down, leg crossed over his peg. She'd never met anyone like him before; he could be so much like a little boy, and yet, as he was now, he looked so masculine and adult. Oh yes, he was not the only enigmatic male she'd encountered, not even in the past 24 hours; the famous detective Basil of Baker Street was downright mercurial. One minute, he could be psychotically excited about a potential clue in whatever case he might be working on, the next minute he could be so depressed as to make one think he was terminally ill and fading fast, if he found he'd reached a dead end. He too, was callous in his behaviour towards women - he'd treated her as merely a pest when she first came to him for help, acting as if she were a mere schoolgirl! He'd only become interested in her case when he found out, from her description of her father's abductor, that Ratigan was involved. And he continually called her by the wrong surname, sometimes substituting completely nonsensical ones in its place, so much so that she wondered if he did it purely for self-entertainment.

The difference was that, for all their violent mood swings and questionable social manners, Basil had a completely different way of carrying his actions out, than Fidget had. Basil was an educated mouse, and possessed a remarkable degree of both elegance and eloquence. He was devastatingly handsome, no matter what expression he wore, with his well-chiselled face, wry, witty smile, sleek, well-fed frame, and his balanced posture. Plus, despite his unconventional attitude, he also possessed the classic snobbery enveloped in charm which was commonly associated with well-educated English folk. Fidget, on the other hand, clearly had little to no education. He must've been able to read, to a degree, if Ratigan made him follow a written list, but she suspected it stopped there, for the most part. He was not particularly witty, to say the least; he seemed to have trouble speaking under pressure for one thing. And handsome? Well, she had to admit, seeing him smile earlier, he managed to make himself surprisingly approachable, even rustically good-looking. His skinny, malnourished body was nothing special, and his clothes were old, worn, and of a style that was clearly of the people. And his torn ear and peg leg… well actually, she found they added an appealing aura of mystery to him. She wasn't terribly surprised by this; she'd read a number of stories about young ladies feeling a deep, profound attraction to men of a ruffian disposition, though she'd always thought herself to be nothing like them. Even the fact that he was shorter than her by about a head did nothing to disconcert that fantasy-like appeal.

Then there was his personality. Without proper education, and living in the environment he lived in, he did not have that charm or snobbery about him; his callousness was brought on by a rawness and freedom to express one's emotions which only came from living a second-class life. He did not feel he suffered any unmanageable consequences from acting the way he did, because he was already rejected by respectable society as it was. He was outcast, so he might as well keep going. And she found herself irrepressibly fascinated by that.

"Fidget?" She called, to get his attention. He'd begun to snore, and she wondered what he'd look like hanging upside down, as his kind was inclined to do when asleep. She called his name a little louder, and this time he jumped up, before falling over to his left. Picking himself up, he stammered, "Huh, wha? What now, boss?"

"Fidget," Olivia repeated. He looked over at her as he dusted off his wings and his sweater, asking tersely, "What?"

Olivia was a little hurt by that, but accepted that that was just how he was. "Fidget, all I wanted was to know…" more about him, she thought, but she had to be more specific. "Do you only obey Ratigan without question because your life depends on it?"

Fidget looked up from his self-sweeping, wearing a look of puzzlement. "Um, well…" he trailed off, still intent on his dusting. "You see, sometimes I think…" he trailed off again. Olivia thought perhaps he was just reluctant to answer her, but in reality, he was more focused on straightening himself out, and was not giving sufficient attention to what he was saying. Finally, he finished and looked up. "Well uh, sometimes I think maybe… maybe if I do well enough, he'll… maybe be a little nicer to me. Like say, he might think I deserve better treatment."

"You really think _he'd _do that?" Olivia cocked an eyebrow. How could even Fidget be so dense?

"Hey, it doesn't hurt to try. I got nothing to lose if he doesn't, only if I do worse than usual."

Once again, Olivia stared in bemusement. So this bat put up with, even clung to his miserable existence because of some fantastic half-hope that his employer's attitude towards him might one day change for the better? That he might come to see him more as a friend than a measly lackey who could be disposed of any time, if the need or desire arose?

"Do you have any real friends, per chance?"

"Uh… hmmm… not sure. Some of the others are pretty decent, but I mostly keep to myself, 'cept when the boss wants me for something."

"Are you ever lonely?"

Fidget hesitated, as if wondering whether there was a deeper undertone to the question. "Yeah, I guess."

_I've been lonely, I've been waiting for you,_

_I'm pretending, and that's all I can do._

_The love I'm sending, ain't making it through_

_To your heart…_

"Tell me - now I don't know if I fully understand the situation you're in, but if things were different, that is, if you weren't so tied to your job, would you… um, leave?"

Again, Fidget glanced around them to make sure no one was listening. "Well, I…"

"FIDGET!" The Professor's booming voice rang out. Fidget jolted, then turned to face the doorway in the rum barrel, shaking. Moments later, Ratigan stepped down from the doorway, heading towards the bottle.

"Ah, there you are, my dear Fidget," he soothed. "Now, what have I told you is the rule about speaking to prisoners?"

"Um, uh, well… heheheh… you're not supposed to do it?" Fidget grinned nervously, hoping he'd answered right.

"Quite," came the reply, "now then, I wish to formulate a plan for how we will receive Basil when he makes his arrival. You will join in the conversation, I hope?" the rat pressed, and it was clear from his voice that the only answer he would permit was _yes_.

"Um, yeah, sure boss." Fidget began to walk past him, before sneaking a glance back at Olivia. This did not escape Ratigan's gaze, and as Fidget stepped in through the doorway Ratigan had just come from, the Professor turned to her, saying in a hollow, polite manner, "Now then, my dear young lady, I'm afraid I must also follow the rule I just discussed with the recent Fidget, so I will make one thing clear." Leaning in so his forehead was pressed against the bottle, he said, glaring, "Do not attempt to win over any of my servants, because the moment I find out you or your father have escaped…" here he lifted his head up and smiled, reaching into his inner breast pocket, "you will find out what happens when I ring this little beauty!"

Olivia watched as he showed her the death tolling bell. Naturally, she was tempted to tell him defiantly that she already knew what would happen, but she was smarter than that. Instead, she replied coolly, "My _dear_ Professor, I should never dream of trying to escape! I'm certain you would miss my father and myself when we were gone, for our presence does add a shed of cleanliness and purity to this sewer-based dwelling you call a home. And of course, I would feel most guilty to know I had taken that away from you!"

Ratigan pursed his lips together and slid the bell back into his pocket. She saw she'd ruffled his fur the wrong way, alright, with her biting, smoothly sarcastic words. "Indeed, Miss Flaversham, make that two things I must underline. Do not attempt to escape, and also…" leaning in again, "watch your _tongue_!"

Ratigan turned around and sauntered back into the barrel, never looking back at her. Olivia smiled in satisfaction, before her thoughts turned to what the Professor had said to Fidget. _When Basil arrived?_ Were they somehow luring Basil into a trap? That must be it. But how? She wished she had more information, not that there was anything she could do about it. If Basil ended up hurt, killed, or in distress in any way, just for hers and her father's sake, oh, she could never live with the guilt. And that dear old doctor, Dawson. Would he accompany Basil? Would he suffer the same cruel fate, whatever it might be? Two good men, entirely on the right side of the law, and trying to undo the wrongs of a crime, and what would they get for it? It broke her heart, and she began to weep. As the tears flowed from her beautiful, chocolate-brown eyes, she began to mentally curse the events of the past day, wishing that that wretched bat had never showed up at her home.

Then all at once, her thoughts were turned back to him. Every time she looked at him, or thought of him now, her opinions on him went in a cycle. He was a malicious little fiend who would abduct anyone or rob anyone, just to please his boss and earn an impossible respect in return. But he was evidently lonely, and outcast, and desperate to receive a feeling of sympathy and care from whoever might be willing to give it to him. And she found his persistence quite admirable; he had so many physical and social setbacks, but he pressed through his meagre existence without a second thought. And even though he could be amazingly childish at times, his said setbacks gave him that dangerous, arousing aura of a ruffian trying to make his way through life, toughing it through the hardest of times, never having a care about the consequences it may bring to others, so long as he stayed alive… and from there she'd go right back to the original thought, and so it went on.

A few hours had passed, and Olivia was feeling very tense, and from a good deal more than cage stress. At any time now, Ratigan was going to put this terrible scheme of his into action, and Queen Mousetoria's life and the welfare of Mousedom would be at stake. At some point, presumably beforehand, Basil and perhaps Dawson would show up here, and be put out of the way somehow. She'd observed the Professor's henchmice moving a large amount of human-sized machinery, including an anvil, an axe, a mousetrap, and a phonograph, among other things, past the barrel to another location somewhere behind, and she was sure it must have something to do with their expected "guest/s". Furthermore, she was not certain what exactly Ratigan ultimately planned to do with her or her father. However, amidst all this impending turmoil, there was a far simpler matter at hand, which, by nature, was impossible to ignore.

The Professor stood in the doorway to the barrel, with Fidget at his side, watching over the goings-on with pleasure. She hated having to do this, but she simply had to. "Professor Ratigan?" she called as sweetly as she could muster the guts to do.

Ratigan turned to her, then rolled his eyes in annoyance, muttering something which sounded like, "What could _she_ possibly want?", and proceeded to step down the stairs, and approach her again. "Yes?" he purred in his usual, synthetic tone.

"I, ahem, have a certain… function I need to take care of,"* Olivia told him, hoping he'd get the message, so she would not have to explain in more obvious words. Sure enough, Ratigan was indeed so clever as to catch on. "Fidget," he called back to the young bat, "escort this young lady to the outhouse!"

"Yes boss," Fidget saluted him, before coming down the steps and making his way to the bottle. He pulled off the cork and stepped inside, to help Olivia out. Ratigan, acting like a gentleman, took her hand as she climbed out and down, then whispered in her ear, "Remember what I said before!"

Olivia stayed silent, but nodded in acknowledgement. Fidget wrapped his wings around her tightly, as he had done before, saying simply, "This way, sweetheart," in that indifferent voice he always used, aside from the conversation they'd shared, hours ago.

Fidget lead Olivia to the outhouse, as ordered, then released her so she could enter the small structure. After thanking him, she did so, and took care of her "business". A couple of minutes later, she re-emerged, and returned to Fidget's side, so he could take her back to her confinement. He spoke not a word to her, and maintained a neutral face.

It was she who broke the silence. "Fidget," she said in a pleading tone. He grunted in acknowledgement, but refused to look at her, nor to cease walking. "I know this is a bad time to say it, but I don't know if I'll get a chance to again… could we please stop for a moment?"

Fidget did, and looked at her, ready to hear what she had to say, before returning to his work. "Fidget, I know you kidnapped my father and myself, and I know you're part of a plan to murder the queen, but…" she sighed, "I don't want _us_ to be enemies."

Fidget stared at her, before shrugging, "Alright then."

Olivia frowned. "That's all you can say?"

"Did you want me to dance a jig in celebration?"

"Of course not!" She replied, a little too quickly.

_You've been hiding, never letting it show,_

_Always trying to keep it under control._

_You've got it down, and you're well on your way to the top,_

_But there's something that you forgot!_

"It's just that, the way we spoke before, surely you remember?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Fidget didn't stop frowning as if annoyed, though his eyes flickered for a moment. He was just trying to keep face, she could now see.

"You need to know that there's someone who cares about you, someone who can understand you. For what it's worth, I'd be willing to fill in that position." She smiled invitingly, she'd said "for what it's worth" because she knew it could never be more than that. They belonged on opposite sides of society and law, to each other, plus she was a mouse and he was a bat. But there was always what was felt in the heart; that would always penetrate through even the thickest of artificial veils put up by society, to bar different clusters of people off from each other.

"You - you'd do that? After what I did to you?" He could not believe it.

"Yes." She continued to smile, and soon he did the same. "Well, thanks… for what it's worth!" They both laughed, then stopped again. Gazing into each other's eyes, her big, soft eyes that resembled pools of liquid chocolate waiting to be turned into an array of delicious confections, and his big, yellow eyes designed to pierce through darkness well enough to see for miles around, they found themselves locked in place, just for a moment. Then, without warning, Fidget pulled Olivia down to him, kissing her with feverish passion.

Olivia was alarmed at first, but found herself powerless to resist him, and was soon responding with a hunger equal to his, if not higher. They melded themselves against each other, meshing perfectly and savouring the sweetness of each other's lips and tongue, knowing deep down that they created a most inappropriate spectacle if anyone were watching, but not giving a damn, anyway. They had to make this last, for as fashioned by fate and by culture, this would probably be their only chance to share such intimacy and bonding.

_What about love?_

_Don't you want someone to care about you?_

_What about love?_

_Don't let it slip away!_

_But what about love?_

_I only want to share it with you,_

_You might need it someday._

After what might have been aeons, the two broke apart and stepped back, shyly smiling at each other. Fidget spoke first, joking, "Thought you were gonna slap me there, for a moment."

Olivia laughed. Even earlier that morning, if he'd tried that with her, she most certainly would have hit him or worse, but so much had happened between them since then, all so fast. As they continued to stare at each other, starstruck, they began to desire an encore, before reality came back to them with a vengeance.

"Ratigan!" They gasped in unison, turning in his direction.

Without another word, Fidget resumed his firm hold on her, and lead her back to the bottle, where Ratigan stood, glancing at his watch and tapping one foot. Looking up and seeing them arrive, he said, "Ah, you came back! I was beginning to fear something had run amiss!" He acted concerned, but neither of them was taken in by that, especially not Olivia, when he gave her a pointed look after speaking.

"Now, Fidget," Ratigan spoke as Fidget helped Olivia back into the bottle, before plugging the entrance with the cork once again, "you are to go to the Rat Trap Saloon right away, and wait for Basil to show up, as he undoubtedly will. Then you will let him catch on that you are there; he will naturally wish to follow you back here. And then, ohoho, _then_, we shall be waiting for him, to give him the surprise of his life! The last surprise he shall ever receive, I daresay!" Ratigan cackled evilly. Olivia and Fidget both cringed. Fidget, however, put his real reaction aside and began to chuckle along with his boss. Then, he asked meekly, "Um, boss?"

"Eh, what is it, Fidget?" Ratigan asked, irritated that his moment of glee had been interrupted.

"Um… may I have a few shillings? For a drink?"

"More like five or six, if I know you," Ratigan seemed to mutter as he reached into a pocket in his trousers, fishing out a few coins and dropping them into Fidget's webbed hands. As Fidget pocketed the money, Ratigan reminded him, "Now be on your way, Fidget," before heading back up into the barrel again.

Fidget turned to go, but halted, and looked back at Olivia one last time. She stared at him, heart bleeding, imploring him with her eyes, "_Please, Fidget, you don't have to do this! It's not too late for you! You could even look to Basil for help, I'm sure he could think of something! You don't have to spend the rest of your life in this horrible, dank sewer, slaving to that insidious sewer rat!_"

Fidget only returned her gaze with a pained one of his own. She envisioned him replying, "_I'm sorry, Olivia, I really wish it could be. Please don't think ill of me for this._"

"Do I smell the bombarding odour of slacking off? I'm quite sure I distinctly told you be on your way, Fidget!" Ratigan yelled from the doorway. Fidget responded to this waking call, but not before touching his chest and gesturing towards Olivia. She responded the same.

She watched sadly as Fidget made his way to the grate a short distance away, lifted it up, and then disappeared beneath it, before she fell down and cried into her arms in hoplessness.

_I can't tell you what you're feeling inside,_

_And I can't sell you what you don't want to buy,_

_Something's missing, you've gotta look back on your life…_

_You know there's something that just ain't right!_

For the umpteenth time that day, she was left alone with her thoughts. There was no more mega-activity going on out here, and all was lonely and silent, except for the muffled sound of excited chatter coming from another indoor location around the corner of the barrel her solitary confinement lay beside. The time at which Basil of Baker Street would be lured into Ratigan's trap was fast approaching, as was the time when Ratigan's dastardly robot look-alike of Mousetoria would announce him as her "royal consort" and heir to the throne, while the real queen was assassinated in secret. If they were able to go free afterwards, she only hoped her father could live with himself. Oh, her father! How could she have been so selfish as to actually forget about him in all this time? How well had he been kept? Had Hiram been fed, or allowed to attend to his "functions" as she had been? She wished they'd let her see him again, perhaps she could have persuaded Fidget to ask Ratigan to allow this.

Once again, Fidget automatically hoarded her mind. She couldn't help it. Without even trying, he had succeeded in not only capturing Hiram and herself, but in capturing her heart and her very essence. She knew it was wrong on all accounts, they barely knew each other; two days before she would not have dreamed he even existed; he was a criminal and she was a respectable member of mouse society. Then there was the punch line to this whole joke Fate had constructed, using them as the props. She was a _mouse_, while he was just a bat. And yet, when they had stared into each other's eyes, and when they had kissed, letting all their inner beings flow into one another, it had been as if they were the same - either both mice or both bats, either both criminals or law-abiding citizens of their culture - or that it didn't really matter, and never had in the first place. But it did, and it tore her apart inside. She wished she could somehow rescue him from this place, wished that they could have met in a different way, at a different time perhaps. She wished he were not a lackey of that evil Professor's, that he had no chains harnessing him to this demeaning way of existance.

Regardless, she knew how it must be. Overall, one of two things must occur: 1. Fidget would lure Basil and maybe Dawson back to Ratigan's lair, and they'd be done away with, Ratigan would have his way with the British empire, at least on the rodential part, and the Flavershams would be left to whatever fate he had in mind for them. 2. When Basil and the doctor arrived, they would somehow manage to outwit and overpower Ratigan, and save the kingdom and her family in the process. Then, maybe Fidget could reform, and receive a new chance at life. She hoped this would be the case; she wanted him to be well and happy, and not have to go to prison, even for his crimes. Besides, crime had been prison enough for him, already, so it seemed. They could not expect their love to go anywhere, it would never be allowed, and so they would have to avoid each other for the rest of their lives, moreso even than society wanted. But they would always have what they shared in their hearts and souls. Olivia would never tell her father, or anyone else, and probably Fidget would do the same, and in due time the pain would subside enough for each of them to carry on. But they would always have what was in their hearts and souls, and the fond memory of that one moment of heated passion they had shared, on the way back from the outhouse, to the bottle where Olivia was to remain until Ratigan decided otherwise.

Still, her inner being was restless, anxious, and depressed simultaneously, and all she could think as she finally cried herself to sleep was, "Oh, why did it have to be _him_?"

_What about love?_

_Don't you want someone to care about you?_

_What about love?_

_Don't let it slip away!_

_But what about love?_

_I only want to share it with you!_

In the Rat Trap Saloon, meanwhile, Fidget sat at the bar, ordering a mug of Rodent's Delight, his favourite liquor. A mug of the brandy meant a great deal of alcohol consumption, but Fidget held his liquor fairly well. On this occasion, however, he instinctively hoped to get himself drunk enough to blank out the pain and confusion he was now suffering from. He'd never felt before, the way he did now. He thought back on the day he'd had, since he'd presented Olivia to Ratigan. Although he had tried to ignore it, there was a nagging feeling within him then, a strange desire to hold onto her. Even when Ratigan announced to Hiram Flaversham that Olivia was there, and she struggled to get to her beloved father, he could not let her go. He knew from personal experience the feeling of loss one experienced when separated from a loving father, and imagined she must have been overjoyed to see him again, yet he couldn't bring himself to grant her that pleasure. Of course, she'd had her way in the end, and though he'd been enraged by what she'd done to get it, in hindsight he knew he had deserved it.

Then he thought of what had happened after he'd narrowly evaded a trip down Felicia's red lane. As he'd rounded the corner to go inside and try to patch himself up, he'd caught sight of her observing him. Remembering that she already thought him ugly, he could not bare the humility which would come with what she'd likely say now, and so had covered himself up and run out of her viewing range as fast as possible.

Then, of course, their little interlude after he brought her her food and drink. As unlikely as it had been, they had bonded in that time, in a way he'd never believed was real, despite his father's stories about the days of his courting with Fidget's mother.

The longer they talked, the more he got the chance to drink in her absolute beauty, from her shiny, tan fur, to those entrancing brown eyes, to that dainty nose and sweet, full-lipped mouth, to her slender, beautifully-curved body, well-accentuated by her turquoise-blue dress and darker blue jacket. Her voice was the icing on the cake; he'd heard Scottish women speak before, but he'd never heard any of them trill their r's quite so delightfully as she did.

She was an incredible woman all around, and if circumstances had been different for them, in any way that would permit it, he would have hastened to claim her by vow in the Church, and never let her go.

The Church. Alas, that was one place he never would belong. Although his father had tried to bring him up as well as he could, even working under Ratigan before him, he had nonetheless ended up taking the old bat's place upon his death, nine years before. His knowledge of what the holy house was like came from his father's descriptions; he couldn't remember what church was like, for the last time he'd been in one was as an infant, shortly before his father turned to crime. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure he'd even been baptised as a baby.

Certainly he could never bring his newfound love down to his level. She was a good woman, and definitely belonged in the Church; he could picture her standing in with the crowds in the pews, singing the hymms which praised the gracious Lord for all his wonder and glory and magnificence, as his father had told him was done in church.

Now, as he finished his drink and ordered another, his mind ventured to gaze upon the memory of that sweet, tender moment he had shared with Olivia, not half an hour ago. Despite the stories he'd heard, he never thought it could be anything quite like that. He never dreamed tasting a woman's mouth could be so exhilarating, so engulfing. For that one moment, they had truly known each other; for that one moment, she had been his, and he had been hers. And just like that, the moment was gone, lost forever to the locked up vault that was time. He could never get it back, nor could he ever hope to recreate it.

Which brought his attention back to the job at hand, and he realized he should try to stay sober, so as not to fail his boss. He decided to challenge some of his fellow patrons to a game of poker or something of the sort, as a means of occupying his time till Basil of Baker Street's expected arrival. Then, maybe he'd have one final drink, and somehow lure the detective into pursuing him back to Ratigan's lair.

After that, he knew how things would turn out: Basil would be killed in the gruesome way Ratigan had arranged for, he would drive Ratigan and the mechanical replica of Queen Mousetoria off to Buckingham Palace in Ratigan's dirigible, he and the other henchmen, disguised as yeomen, would kidnap the queen and she would then be fed to Felicia. With old Flaversham at the controls, the mechanical queen would announce Ratigan as the new ruler of Mousedom, and his reign of terror over the kingdom would begin. The Flavershams would then be released, and allowed to resume their former lives as much as Ratigan's new laws would allow; after all, once all was said and done, there was nothing they would be able to do about it, so they might as well go free, as a "reward" for the part they'd played in this scheme.

And whether Ratigan still considered Fidget useful to him or not, whether Fidget was kept, killed, or simply dismissed, he knew he could never see her again. Nevermind that he was a bat and she was a mouse. Nevermind that he was a criminal and she was good. Most importantly, she could not see him again after his part in this crime. The guilt and shame he would feel! He recalled that pleading look in her eyes when he had last seen her, as if she begged him not to do what he was going to do, knowing all the while that it was useless. He probably should have stood up to Ratigan then, he would have faced death for sure, but at least he'd die with dignity. Ratigan was sure to find some way to get what he wanted, but Fidget would have made it somewhat harder for him to do so.

The trouble was he just couldn't bring himself to do so. He knew he was cowardly, and he feared death, but at the same time, he loved life. Not that he had much of one, but he'd learned over time to hold on to the little things; he loved basking in the moonlight on clear nights, when he wasn't off on a mission, and he enjoyed his time in the Rat Trap. He even found ways to enjoy the errands he had to run, or the schemes he had to take part in.

And in that last moment, his love for life had won over his love for Olivia. Maybe it was because the former was so much older than the latter. All he knew was that he deeply regretted breaking her heart, and he even more deeply regretted that he had had the power to do so, or that she had the power to wrench his own heart like she did.

As he got up and made his way over to one of the tables near the walls, where a crowd of lowlife mice sat, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "Why did it have to be _her_?"

_What about love?_

_Don't you want someone to care about you?_

_What about love?_

_Don't let it slip away!_

_But what about love?_

_I only want to share it with you!_

_Oh, love! Oh, oh what about love?_

_Love! Oooooh! _

_What about love?_

_Love! Love! Love!_

_What about, what about, love! Oooooh!_

The end.

AN: Okay, so for those interested:

* Professor Ratigan's first name is Padraic, in the original stories by Eve Titus; like a good deal of fans of the Disney adaptation, I like to presume they kept it the same for their version of the character.

* "Mousedom" I'm guessing, is a slang term the mice use for their British society, since Ratigan said he'd be supreme ruler of all Mousedom when Queen Mousetoria, the mouse version of Queen Victoria, was out of the way.

* "Function" was the most discreet term I could come up with while writing that part, but I'm sure you can all guess what was meant.


End file.
